


Sense

by knockoutqueenoftheunderworld



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, HER Interactive, nancy youre a detective how did you not figure this out, sea of darkness, terrible as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knockoutqueenoftheunderworld/pseuds/knockoutqueenoftheunderworld
Summary: "Gunnar even took me on a fishing trip."In which Gunnar opens Nancy's eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ...sorry

When Gunnar said her name to get her attention, Nancy jolted out of her thoughts.

“I thought talking would scare the fish away,” Nancy replied, confused.

“Aye.” Gunnar looked away. “What is it like, the way you live?”

Nancy shrugged, tapping the handle of her fishing pole. “Don’t do that!” Gunnar snapped, and Nancy cut it out.

“I guess…” Nancy weighed her thoughts. “I go all over the world. I meet so many amazing people and do what I love.”

Gunnar sighed, looking at his line out to sea. “And your father, what does he think of his little girl off alone being threatened with axes and big men with knives?”

Nancy snorted. She glanced at Gunnar, who was almost smiling, eyes still on the water. “He… doesn’t always like it,” Nancy sighed. “But just being at home and  _ staying  _ there… It doesn’t feel right. I’m not done with my adventures yet.”

“You’ll have to settle down one day, girl,” Gunnar said, echoing the words her father and Ned has repeated to her over and over. “Where is your home, what holds you there?”

Nancy watched her line ripple in the wind. “River Heights.” This time when she looked over Gunnar met her eyes. She turned away, suddenly unsure of her answer. “Small town, same people.”

Gunnar nodded. “Like here.”

“I have a boyfriend there, and friends, and my family.” Nancy smiled to herself as she recalled their faces one by one. “I guess they are what holds me there.”

“And where are you going next,  _ fiskur _ ?”

“....Salem.”

“Afraid to go home, girl?” Gunnar pinned her with a steely gaze. Nancy wondered if this was what it was like when she herself questioned suspects: probing, prying the information out bit by bit, gleaning something from every little move.

“No, I’m visiting home and then heading out, that’s not it, I’m not afraid,” Nancy rushed through her words, an uncomfortable knot tightening in her belly. What had brought this on? She reminded herself of Ned, George, Bess, Hannah, Dad.

“Who follows you on your journeys?” Gunnar squinted at Nancy. His fishing pole jumped, and he yelped and desperately pulled in the line. When the hook turned up empty, Gunnar cursed and cast out again. “Or are you as the  _ minke _ , alone always?” He continued as he settled back into his fishing posture.

“No one, I guess,” Nancy replied. 

“No one?” Gunnar pressed when he was relaxed again.

“Well… I have my friends’ numbers in my phone and sometimes they come with me… But I have are some friends who are detectives like me. Two brothers. ” Frank and Joe. Nancy hadn’t talked to them all through this Skipbrot mess. “I should probably call them.”

“And they are your companions?”

“Yes. They… they know me better than anyone else.” Nancy looked down at her fingers gripping the fishing pole, remembering the touches she’d shared with the Hardys and the mysteries and moments and the knowledge that they had each other’s backs. Remembered life or death situations and tag teaming criminals. No one worked with her quite as well as the Hardys. “I miss them.”

“Ah.” Gunnar bowed his head. “And so you understand my love for my wife.”

“What?” Nancy jerked her head aside to stare at him. “You’re talking about Frank and J- the detectives?” Gunnar raised his eyebrows to say ‘yes’ “You know I have a boyfriend!”

“Aye.” Gunnar chuckled, deep and throaty. “Your eyes don’t light up that way when you talk about your boy.”

Nancy felt exposed, realizations and embarrassment swirling around her like a tornado. Ned had called her earlier, and hadn’t been sure what to tell him. “They mean a lot to me.”

Gunnar’s eyes almost twinkled. Almost. It was more like a manly sparkle. “You’ll find your way, girl.” With his words Nancy had to pause. The Hardys had been far from her mind this whole trip, but now she could only imagine them being here with her: Frank a steady presence beside her as they clambered through the ice caves; Joe charming Elisabet with his personality and kindness; the brothers befriending Gunnar more easily than she had; talking her through dealing with disappointing Ned; spreading out to cover more ground; having their shenanigans as comic relief in the darkness.

She missed them. And she hadn’t realized to what extent that sadness went.

“Is there one in particular…?” Gunnar asked gruffly, and Nancy was losing her mind. One of the Hardy boys? Why was Gunnar asking her this? Why did he care?

“You don’t seem the type to care about all this,” was what came out of Nancy’s mouth.

Gunnar shrugged, then gasped. “Oi!” He barked, pointing, and Nancy’s line tugged and she jumped to reel in the line. A wriggling fish was on the end of her hook. Gunnar grunted but placed the fish in the basket, grunting about “beginners’ luck.” He watched with a critical eye as Nancy baited her line and cast out.

“Girl,” Gunnar said. “I’m an old sailor. And for years I’ve hated foreigners with all of my old bones, but you are not terrible.”

“Gunnar, are you saying you care about me?” Nancy teased. Gunnar glared at her.

“Happiness is a fickle thing,  _ fiskur _ ,” Gunnar gruffed.

Nancy couldn’t believe she was actually having this discussion. And with  _ Gunnar _ , no less. “Ned and I…” Nancy trailed off. “He’s a really great guy, kind and funny and sweet. We’re good together. We make sense.”

“Ah-ha,” Gunnar harrumphed at her final word. “ _ Sense _ doesn’t make happiness, girl. My wife…” Gunnar’s voice became a croak. “She and I didn’t make sense.”

There was a pregnant pause. Nancy stared out to where her line met the ocean. She didn’t think there were any words she could say to that.

Gunnar’s voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “So I ask again, which one is yours?”

Nancy’s heart picked up as the thought sunk in. She and Ned.... she loved him. She loved him so much, and he loved her back, but what Gunnar was talking about, being together without making sense, being with someone not because it was the sensible thing to do, but because she felt wild enough to go for it? Was it obligation she felt, contentment? She and Ned had been together for years and years…  _ Which one is yours? ... _ And she had noticed Frank Hardy for all of those years. Frank, with brown eyes and dark hair and a heart of gold.

The water sloshed against the side of the boat. Gunnar had gone back to watching his fishing, waiting out her answer.

She had been noticing Frank Hardy for years.

Nancy wanted to take another crowbar to the face.

Did she actually have a thing for Frank?

... _ Why had nobody told her? _

Maybe it was only a crush, but thinking of Frank made her smile a little, her heart tingle and her cheeks tinge. Ned was amazing, but he couldn’t make her whole spirit light up just thinking about him. She and Frank… Always rushing around the world, commitments left and right, lucky if they got to speak, let alone see each other.

“...the older one,” Nancy muttered. After a beat she admonished, “The one with the dark hair.”

Gunnar’s toothy smile aimed at the clouds made Nancy’s own mouth curve upwards. He was reminiscing, no doubt, of his wife and his daughter, about the mad love that drove people crazy. Love that wasn’t about sense. 

“So what will you do about this dark haired detective,  _ fiskur _ ?” Gunnar demanded, staring her down.

Nancy couldn’t think of a single smart reply to his words. “We’ll see,” she said finally, and Gunnar rolled his eyes, yelped, and reeled in another wriggling fish. 

The remainder of the trip was spent in silence, save Gunnar’s harsh criticism on Nancy’s fishing techniques, and when they reached shore Gunnar directed them straight into the pub. Elisabet and Magnus were leaning over a table towards each other in the back, talking in small voices, looking so intimate and in love and  _ together _ that it took Nancy’s breath away.

Did Elisabet and Magnus make sense?

_ What will you do, fiskur? _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ...i'm not sorry.


End file.
